You find Yourself
by TheZoneSystems
Summary: You find yourself abducted, imprisoned and terrified by a man you have only met once. A man you have yearned for since. Sorry for grammatical mistakes. This contains mature adult content. Written for SlowScar's birthday.


**A/N**  
**This is something I just... created. This is a gift to a friend (SlowScar) who turns 16 today! Congratulations!**  
**I've just discovered my obsession for getting her things. And yeah, to keep myself from purchasing everything in a store, I came across this in my mind.**  
**I'm sorry I abducted you. And all the smut. Really. **  
**It wasn't easy to write it. Therefore the lack of details. I-just-couldn't.**  
**To try to write smut about someone you consider as your sister is... pretty hard, people.**  
**I appreciate constructive criticism, but I plead you to have mercy. Don't be that harsh.**  
**I actually managed to avoid using any ****apostrophes (I believe...), which I use far too often. I'm proud of myself.**  
**And this took only two days to write, the story is a total of 3426 words. Bloody hell, I'm proud.**  
**Warnings: Smut. That's pretty much it. Don't you think?**  
**And, unbearable use of the words "you, your".**  
**I've never written anything like this. It feels like I've violated my other works. Damn.**  
**And, SlowScar; Pontus says 'Congratulations!' too. **  
**I love you, honey. Truly do. I can't live without you. **

* * *

You find yourself wander about the room, trying to register as well as place both the surroundings and yourself somewhere, you have not been here before.

It is small and dusty, quite filthy if you were to speak your thoughts, which you preferably would not.

You stay clueless of your location and you do not know how you got here, tears sting behind your lids as fear blossom through your abdomen, causing your heart to accompany the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

You are free to move as you please, no ties keep you imprisoned and the oak door in the far corner from you does not even budge an inch when you tackle it, topple over and slump heavily against the marble wall.

You decide to stay rational, realistic as you please, and do not scream your lungs out in agony when you regain your composure. You do not dare to make a sound, your abductor could be listening, watching.

Your attention does not wander carelessly from the floor to the sound of a voice, you can hear your neck snap painfully when you suddenly turn your head in the right direction.

Someone is murmuring on the other side, strange but familiar words in Latin is spoken with tenderness and passion you did not even know existed. You stand your ground gracefully, shoulders squared and chin raised.

You are certain you know this man, even as his features is hidden beneath an awfully recognizable mask.

His cloak trails behind him on the floor and you resist the urge to look away when steel eyes lock with your blue ones. Anyone would feel vulnerable under his gaze, an intimidating anger flashes in his gray depths when you bite your bottom lip.

He suddenly turns, abandon you with questions to ponder and you want to kneel and beg him, plead him to speak. But your dignity holds you back, straighten and proud of yourself.

When he is out, done with the murmuring and his steps done echoing in the aisle behind the only escape you know of, your shoulders slouch awfully and the breakdown is nearby.

The tears blur your visibility before they trickle down your cheeks and stain them with a painful reminder of how fragile you really are, but even you are too tough to release the sob you have managed to swallow continuously the past hour.

You are not that fond of dramatics and do rather favour serenity over rushed conclusions, but when you fall to your knees with a breathless whimper panic rears its ugly head.

You want to cry out, to demand answers but you are to scared of your tongue and your impulsive actions. As far as you are concerned in this particular moment, this man could drop dead. As long as your location is known to another.

][

You find yourself longing for his return. Hours has passed with your tears drying off you slowly, leaving you shuddering with cold, and you are quite certain you have been awake. Even if time is not anything you would keep track of right in this instant.

You want him to console you, wheedle you to believe he would send condolences, you find yourself wish for his presence. You bet he is warmer than you, have a nice dish in front of him and he might even be able to take it easy.

You, on the other hand, is suffering. The floor is cold and moist against your face, you have been lying there the last minutes. No longer whimpering, no ragged breaths rasping their way to your lungs. But most important; no more tears.

You feel empty, at loss for something you always known to have. You need to speak to someone, but your voice is not reliable, it would break at the first syllable.

You cough lightly, trying in vain to avert the dust from you, waving it away and staring daggers when it returns. You receive the urge to sneeze, but hurries to push it away when the same Latin is heard.

Your posture is terrible. But you do not care, you have your back against whomever it might be to visit you. You can not find it in you to care any more.

You believe this man can do whatever he pleases and you would not even bat an eyelid.

His steps towards you sets the fear ablaze within, your body demanding shivers to run down your back to stain your thighs and hip with goosebumps.

You feel small and silly, you draw a sharp breath when his gaze is burning holes into your body. He is surveying you, carefully considering every inch.

Your breath hitches when you hear him crouch behind you and when his fingers fondle the fabric covering your side you do not know where to go, how to act.

You want to scream, to cry out.

But you can not find it in you to do it, not even when he kneels and press his lips against your temple. The only reaction seemingly rational enough is to tense your jaw.

He has the nerve to click his tongue and then flip it over said jaw. He has the nerve to chuckle when you struggle to keep quiet, sputter to not leap up and pant. You want to get away from him, in that exact moment preferably.

But you are still too proud and you fight to remain indifferent when his breath hits your ear, but when he flicks his tongue once again, yet over your earlobe this time, you find it difficult to keep your breathing even.

He murmurs, coaxing you to turn. He wants to see you. You contemplate your choices and when none rears its head you obey reluctantly.

][

You find yourself locking eyes with an arrogant and sneering glare. Anger flashes in the stormy gray again and you fight the impulse to roll your eyes.

"You took your time."

You think he is infuriating, intimidating and intriguing in the same time. His voice at loss of any possible, or impossible, emotions and you answer his statement with furrowed brows.

You stay silent and will not speak until spoken to.

He nuzzles your neck, sending shivers down your body and leaving it reacting in ways it should not. You want to escape, the door was never shut. You could just hit him square in the face, or the groin preferably, and run for it.

But you can not find it in you to move.

His fingers still fondles with the cloth covering your skin, he seems positively eager for you to see who he is, for you to recognize him. You have yet to tear your eyes from his.

Their depths seems to consume your thoughts and you want to writhe beneath his gaze instead of determine if he is familiar, if you can recall him. He grows tired of your eyes and decides to devour your body relentlessly and you clamp your eyes shut to stop them from rolling back into your skull, you tense your jaw and grind your teeth painfully.

You don't want him to have this power over you.

You want him to stop, will him to drop dead immediately. You want him to get it over with, to diminish your pain and the fear tearing at you.

Your eyes snap open when he withdraws and you are certain the fear churning your stomach is showing, for you are afraid.

Utterly and morbidly scared.

Every build barrier hurtled at the instant and you feel like you have failed your own goals, yourself.

Tears form in the corner of your eyes and threaten to break loose at any second, the concrete beneath you leaves you freezing.

Or you convince yourself it is the floor causing first the shivers, and now the feeling of being at loss.

Tender fingers caress your cheek and you unconsciously lean into the touch, a faint smile creeping its way into your lips. Fingers catch the lonely tear on its way trickling down your cheek.

You close your eyes again, keep them close when you can smell him, when he is close enough for your breaths to mingle.

His lips is almost touching yours when he murmurs nonsense.

You are still not responding to him, you want to sink through the floor and eventually die, death seems appealing.

"Look at me," he murmurs, brushing his lips ever so slightly against your cheek, and you obey immediately.

][

You find yourself tracing his face with your fingers, trying to place him in your memories. Of course you have seen him before, you recognize him.

He has matured.

An encounter flashes before your inner eye, you remember it clearly. There were no words spoken, no verbal connection between the two of you, but an emotionally.

Your minds are winded together, brilliant minds think alike and both of you knew the other right away. After just one intense glare.

He treated you like dirt back then, you are not of his kind. He can do things you have never even dared to dream of, his relatives despise you. Your kind.

His hair is damp, plastered against his forehead and you can not resist the urge to push it back, make him look quite ridiculous.

You manage to stifle your giggle, but one of your infamous and uncertain smiles tug at your lips, promptly leaves your eyes untouched.

You shift to trace the line of his neck, his skin is warm against yours, at the same time his fingers connect with you directly. The fabric covering your hip shifted as well.

You feel vulnerable and your breath hitches. Of course if would come to this eventually, he is a man and men can not control their urges. Everyone knows that.

You are naïve, and yet you can not find it within you to trust anyone. No one is worthy enough for you to rely on. And your encounter with this man is still hidden beneath much guilt.

You have never been this close to him, and his pale hands make the movement that surprises you the most; he takes hold of the cloth he has been fondling and pulls it back down your hip. The movement is slow.

But it speaks when he does not. It talks, communicate with you. He will not do anything until you take the first step. You know that much.

Your body has reacted already, his presence is overwhelming and you can not help it when part of you moist to answer his light touches. You can admit you want him.

You want him to take away the uncertainty, the fear.

To wait is torture.

You wanted him on that first day. Your insides keeps churning, turning and you long after him, after those small touches, the murmuring words.

Your worlds are not alike and you can not deny it any further, you will never have a future. Both of you would be murdered. Either it be his self-loathing for wanting you, or his relatives hunting you down.

You know you can not rely on him, no one is trust worthy. But you feel the need to reach out, your body is urging to have him flush against you. Just once more.

Like that time. When the war in his world unfolded itself upon yours and you found yourself cornered, wounded and breathless on the ground. His body recklessly pressed against every inch you called your own.

And he disappeared later on, shame and embarrassment evident in his cynical features.

He sighs, leans into the touch when you cup his cheek. His eyes flutter shut and you take the opportunity to your advantage, never will he forget this moment. And neither will you.

][

You find yourself kissing him fiercely, suckling his bottom lip, gracing your teeth on it, pulling it along when you withdraw to quickly avert your gaze.

You are embarrassed and worry about the blush creeping up your neck, you do not want him to see it. His considering glances is far too much already.

He grabs hold of your jaw, tilts your head for you to examine the brand new dominance in his eyes, which, as you observe, seems even stormier than before.

His mouth collides with yours quite hard and you whimper pathetically. The word coward is murmured against your lips and oh – his fingers found your skin again.

You arch your back involuntarily; his pale fingers is splayed across your hip, drawing strange patterns across the bone. He makes a joke about them, one you created by yourself. But you can not remember if you ever told him.

Words were not part of your communication.

The dominance he possesses does not subside, it only increases in power and you are once again overwhelmed. Partly because he is invading the little personal space you have left, and partly because of the power emitting from him.

He is relentless in his touches, his hands roaming your body and he hauls you up to your feet. Crushes you as he pins you to the wall. The same marble wall you was slumped against.

You arch your back once more, your wrists in his grasp, place above your head. He is flush against you, less clothing present to prevent his warmth from enveloping you.

You want him badly, but you are too proud to admit it out loud. You are pretty sure you show it to him, either way.

You gasp loudly when he knits his fingers into your hair, pulls to dominate the kiss fully. The only thing you know to do is to follow his lead. You notice he can pin your wrists above your head with only one hand. You envy his strength.

He eases his hold on you, but you would not dream of escaping. Not now and not in a long time. You want him to exist with you and you need his assistance to make that happen, you need his body, you have been longing for it ever since that first day.

You yelp in surprise when the chilly air hits your suddenly bare back and stomach. He removed your shirt. Your kiss broke.

The feel of loss is unbearable and you lunge at him to feel him again, but he is faster than you and once again you are pinned against the wall. This time hissing when the cold stone connects with your skin.

You want him badly and you are panting heavily when his lips find their way across your face, along your jaw and down your neck. He bites down on your pulse point.

A deep moan escapes you and he chuckles against your skin, releases your wrists and instantly your fingers are entwined with his silvery strands. They are like silk and you try to fetch your common sense.

You fail miserably. His fingers search their way downwards, snaking, teasing above the waistband of your trousers before undoing the button.

His clothing is still untouched.

You make certain he is not clad for long.

][

You find yourself clinging to him, his fingers in places you have only imagined him. He gives you attention no other man has, he seems to know every spot. He want to bring you over the brim, he is coaxing you to let go.

But even as your knees tremble you can not find it within you to come, something is missing and you do not have any clue of what it might be.

You lost track of your mission to have him nude when your last clothing pooled around your ankles and he lifted you up. Like you didn't weight anything.

His fingers withdraw themselves and you whimper, he chuckles and you snake an arm around his neck. Locks eyes with him. You are prepared to speak, to let him know your voice.

But he interrupts you, his lips crash into yours and he is demanding access, his tongue flicking over your bottom lip delicately. You allow him and his dominance is more than overwhelming, worse than unbearable.

You can not breathe. You lost the ability and your heart is racing, trying to beat its way through your ribs. You are certain he can hear it, or at least feel it.

He is lapping at your mouth, his fingers massaging your breasts, pinching the nipples.

You pant, gasps and moan. His arms find their way to pick you up properly, bridal style to be more specific, and carry you.

You have no idea where he might take you, your eyes are closed and your attention directed at him, hands fumbling with his shirt, tearing off the buttons.

His chest is exposed. You can not help but to trail your fingers from his neck to his nipples, downwards, electing a feral growl from his throat.

You have reached your destination. He drops you at the bedding and you watch him rip his shirt off, exposing his delicate muscles all at once. Your mouth is dry, you have a hard time swallowing the little saliva left. Your breath hitches.

Who knew he was God beneath that cloak. Who knew the outline of his handsome features. You want to touch him badly, but restrain yourself from giving in for your urges.

Control is what he wants and you might just give it to him. Obey him. But you would put up a fight for it, make him earn your submission.

It is almost like he can read your thoughts even in this hazy desire, he murmurs husky reassurances, trying to ease your obvious tension as his hands wander about you. He is in places you never believe him to.

You cling to him once more and he nibbles at your earlobe, trailing kisses down your throat, going further down, licking and flicking his tongue. He is owning you. And you let him.

You find yourself crying out with each of his thrusts, you are clawing at his back, marking him, claiming him in the same fashion he does with you.

He is grunting and groaning, one or two moans escape his throat and he growls continuously. Your hips are raised to meet him, greet him, when he slams into you. You have been released numerous of times.

This is the best you have ever felt, no one has given you this much attention.

No one ever cared about your needs.

But then again, this man is nothing of the ordinary. He is nothing of your world.

You can even see the despair in his eyes as he flinches each time his erection collides with your moist walls. He is desperate, just like you.

You want to understand him, but you know it is not possible. Your world is too far from his, you can not coexist. It would dislodge everything.

Every little bit of the world would tumble down.

But you can not prevent the way your heart is aching for him, how emotionally attached you have grown to him, to this man.

Each of his thrusts slams into you, bring you closer to climax, even after multiply orgasms leaving you panting, trembling beneath him.

You have never been through anything remotely akin to this.

He adores you, make sure to bring you over and over.

He much be exhausted, you think and you try to move. Try to switch positions.

But he is as infuriatingly dominant as before and he pin you onto the mattress, his pace increasing steadily.

Every muscle in him contracts, he groans and pushes deep within you. You are over the brim yourself, bliss surrounding you.

You did not even bother to count the times he brought you, it would not be important.

He is still buried in you, but he collapses and pants into the crook of your neck, sighs with evident bliss and then props himself up on his elbows.

What you believe to be the last kiss you share with him is slow, genuine and you can not help but to put every thought and feeling into it.

He actually seems to do the same.

He breaks the kiss reluctantly and lock eyes with you.

"My name. Say it."

Oh, his possessiveness never ceases to amaze you. And you decide to deliver more than required to.

"_Draco_," and every syllable is rolling of your tongue delicately, "I can not get enough of you."

He smirks and claims your lips again, hands roaming your body relentlessly.

Apparently, he can not get enough of you either.

* * *

**HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY, SLOWSCAR. (HEARTS)**


End file.
